


I think I left her too late, baby

by Igot2peedou



Category: AU - Fandom, Twd - Fandom
Genre: AU, Band, F/M, etc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8863693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Igot2peedou/pseuds/Igot2peedou
Summary: AU... Beth is in a band.Daryl was in a biker gang. This isn't a happy fic... in real life things go wrong despite all the love. Told through the point of view of Daryl, witness the result of past mistakes and if there is any way to fix them.





	1. I think I left her too late

 

 

Daryl considered his options, his Harley thundering between his thighs. Night was young enough that he could still drive through this small insignificant town, right into the next _small insignificant town_. Made no difference really- well, there was the fact, 'only one bar worth goin to for miles: The Prison Yard. 

He tried to not think about how the road he was speeding down wasn't just any road in any old insignificant town- this was  _the_ insignificant town. (If that made any sense.) Daryl shook his head, pushed away those thoughts. Tried to focus on another thing that he didn't want to think about, but at a lesser degree. Like how The Yard was owned by Carol and her late piece of shit husband. Last time he saw her she wasn't exactly thrilled with him- hell, he'd bet his leather boots none of the hicks here were. Couldn't exactly blame them. (Yes he could.) If he stopped here, in this town, it would tear him apart. Undoubtedly.

The moment Daryl steps foot on the premises any level of incognito would dis-a-fucking-pear. For one, anyone worth knowing would already be at the Prison Yard (it was a fucking Friday night for shit sake) and anyone who wasn't there would know he's in town soon enough. Like her. Or her family (what was left of it, anyway.) 

He choked on his breath in surprise. Where had that come from? He hadn't thought about... any of it for a long while. Why were these intrusive thoughts popping up now? 'Cause this fucking town, he thinks, crabs in a bucket. Dragging him down.

Daryl tightens his grip on his handle bars, decides to drive right through. Screw the Prison Yard, ain't no bottle of booze worth the hassle; When he sees it. An abnormally huge population crammed into the parking lot of the Prison Yard- fanning out and splayed down the road. Daryl frowns. He unconsciously eases off the throttle, smoothly pulling, and parking as close as possible to the lot. As he's walking up to the bar Daryl can't ignore the strange situation. The regulars would have never just filled up the lot and then some, even on ten good days during happy hour combined. 

Finally, when he's inside Daryl has an inkling of why there are so many people. It's like the Red Sea, but made of braceleted youth- ones that should be carded. He wonders why Carol let them in in the first place. He hardly pays any mind to the girl-women and tries not to think rude thoughts about the man-boys. He's here for a drink at a nice bar. That's it, really is.

Daryl shags himself a seat, everyone else is attracted to the dance floor. The music ain't even good. Sounds like elevator shit to him, but it ain't like he'd know the damn difference. 

He waits until Carol comes to serve him, but even then he waits for her to speak first- he isn't sure what to expect. 

There's a small smile curled across he lips, reminding him of a smug feline. She nods at him, casually pours him his usual, as if he hasn't been gone for years, without missing a beat. Like she was expecting him and not at all like he almost drove right through this damn town like it was nothing but a footnote on Georgia's epic ass. (Who's he kidding, he always finds his way back, doesn't he?)

"Good to see you."

Daryl grunts in response. From a outward perspective he appeared to be more excited to see his drink than his long term friend. 

"Didn't think I'd see you another decade or two," she continues.

Daryl drinks deeply to hide his flinch. Was that a jab at his line of business or his "disappearance" act? A fluttery hot suspension crawled up the back of his neck. Is that what everyone thought- after her? After he left? 

Daryl's sullen poker face doesn't mean jack under Carol's serene attention. She knew him to well. 

"It is, good."                                        
"Yeah," he allows, hesitating.                   
"Picked a helluva night to come back."       

The look she's giving him now feel studios, as if she's trying to decipher every inch of him. 

"What?" He snaps.

Carol smiles. Her question is unspoken, Are you sure? 

He isn't, but he's here, isn't he. Maybe that's the problem. Daryl glances around the room self consciously, maybe her establishment was too good for people like him now. Hell, hauled all these people in- of course she didn't want scruffy red necks bothering the rich yuppies, Carol just didn't say anything cause it was nothing personal, just the way it had to be. He takes another gulp of his beer, rolling his shoulders in understanding when Carol snickers.

She pats his forearm with a familiarity that pinches his gut.                              

"Enjoy the show Pookie." 

And then she's gone. Off to chat up another patron. Daryl remains seated, again considering his options. Carol hadn't demanded he leave but she hadn't said to stay either- not exactly an invitation but for sure not an eviction notice. And what was with her? 'Enjoy the show?' The term of endearment, Pookie, at least made sense, but she had seemed rather... mystic about the other half of her sentence. Carol looked sad- no, concerned, and what he understood to be a bit of mischief glittering in her eyes. What was with her? Daryl sighed. In just the short amount of time he's been here he could tell a lot has changed since he left. 

 

 

 

It took took a few verses before he realized it was her. 'mean, he thinks, why would he even consider her as a candidate? The stupid fucks setting up for the band- were bumbling idiots. The crowd didn't help either, they began to cheer chanting some dumb "edgy" band name, becoming more loud and obnoxious then what Daryl had originally pegged them for. That's why, he buried his face into several bottles of beer, facing the bar. Away from whatever bullshit was about to occur.

 

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner            
Breathin in your dust                              
I wanna be your Ford Cantina

 

The fact the singer was female should have been the first red flag. He had guessed the band was strictly male- not because he was a complete sexist shit, but because that s'just how it was usually. Daryl could feel the tempo of his heart flicker, to nothing specifically, or if anything, the very beat of the instruments. Still, like an idiot, he ignored the signs. What really got to him was the next line in the song. "I will never rust," the singers voice had hit a hypnotic pitch. Something wasn't right. 

If you like your coffee hot                        
Let me be your coffee pot                        
You call the shots babe                              
I wanna be yours

 

His heart seemed to curdle right then and there. Daryl sat frozen in his seat.

 

Secrets I've held in my heart.                  
Are harder to hide then I thought              
Maybe I just wanna be yours                    
I wanna be yours I wanna be yours          
I wanna be yours I wanna be yours          
I wanna be yours

Let me be your 'leccy meter                    
And I'll never run out                              
And let me be your portable heater          
that you'll get cold without.                        
I wanna be your setting lotion (I wanna be)

Hold your hair in deep devotion  
(How deep?) At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean.                                                  
I wanna be yours 

 

And it kind of made sense. Why he didn't immediately recognize her voice. It had matured, and- and the band she was with, looked nothing like the hipsters she used to play with. No wonder he didn't even expect... Was it strange that Daryl had not forgotten that lilt? That he sometimes woke up with it, swimming through his dreams? Even now he could hear the "old" her- the one he had left, so long ago, and he couldn't help but compare her to to this "new" Beth. 

Secrets I've held in my heart                      
Are harder to hide then I thought              
Maybe I just wanna be yours          ...

 

 

 

Daryl can't even hear the rest of the song. He's thunderstruck. Hell a zombie could walk in and bite him in the ass and he'd be less surprised. Beth. Beth Greene was here, in The Prison Yard, singing with a bunch of- bunch of whatever they were's onstage. And then it clicks. The look of concern Carol had- for him, the shitload amount of people here, for that band (for Beth). Everything began to fall into place and it pissed him the fuck off. Carol knew. And she hadn't told him. 

"Hey! Wanna drink," he slapped his fist loudly against the counter. He glared at the heads of the fans gathering around the band, but refused to look at her, this was bullshit. Several people gave him astounded looks, shying away from him. He glared at them. They were only fueling Daryl's anger and his sudden desperate need for a drink. "Screw it," he growled, snatching his cup, as he leaned over the counter to fill it. Daryl threw the drink back and went for more- every action angry, forceful.

"Daryl, what's your problem?" 

Carol cocked her eyebrow, hand on her hip. QUEEN of the fucking world. That was bullshit too.

. 

"I ain't no farmer!"

"Daryl," her smile was bright, just short of cheesing- girl was drunk off her ass. He was too. "No one asked you to be."      

"Don't play stupid Beth you been fucking with my head since day one." 

Her smile began to fade, as if she finally could take a hint. Except she's Beth his sweet innocent girl, who can't take a  hint to leave him the hell alone.    "Is that what you think," she half giggles.

"S'what I know." Daryl pushes himself up, disgusted. 

She's still smiling. A small reproachful one full of hope and comfort. Beth gets up to, tries to touch his arm. "You don't know anything Dixon-"

"Don't fucking touch me! I ain't no bitch, I ain't Rick. Sure ain't Glenn! Or, your dad."

And her smile is gone. Dropped off the face of the earth. Deathly silent, and he knows he should stop- he'd gone too far, but that's the thing, Dixon's don't know how to quit (don't know how to quit anything bad, at least.) 

"Only with me so you have someone to call daddy. Acting like a dumb college bitch who don't know how to cope-"

"That's bullshit." She's almost crying, eyes glazed with unshed tears.

.

 

"What's it take to get a damn drink in here, huh?" He isn't yelling anymore, but the aggressiveness in his voice makes up for the lack of volume. Carol gives the beer in his hands a pointed look.

"Takes a reach around." She looks likes she's about to leave when he asks.  
Or well, states. "You didn't tell me."

Carol stops in her tracks.                        
"Didn't think it mattered."                        

Of course it mattered. How could she not see that?  He wonders if she enjoys the obvious look on his face because he doesn't even try to hide what he feels about that.          
"It's been years. Live and let live right? Sides you only come to these things to get piss drunk, honestly didn't think you'd notice." He can't even tell if she's lying or hugely underestimating him. Either way, he's genuinely unhappy. Maybe Carol takes pity on him.

"She's leaving on tour with her band, you're passing through," she shrugs. 

"Tour?"

Carol nods. "Songbird has been doing well for herself- got discovered by this band... Beth, well I called in a favor tonight. So she's here all week until she leaves."                            
"Leaves to where," he asks, before he can squash the ebb of curiosity. 

Carol tilts her head staring off into the immediate distance. He turns and looks, and there she is. Beth. Walking this way. To them- no, to Carol. She doesn't even know he's here yet.

"Ask her yourself- Beth," she calls to the 'rockstar'. 

"Hey Carol." The sweet sound of her voice makes him want to face her, drop to his knees- behead himself in the damn girl's name, but he doesn't. Instead he turns back facing her. Begs to whatever God there is up there to let him go unnoticed. So of course after a moments idle chat with Carol she sees him. His own fucking fault really- wearing that damn vest, coming to this fucking town, not leaving as soon as he realized she was here- so really, maybe he can't blame her for noticing him.

"Howdy stranger." 

Her hand is on his shoulder, like it isn't a big deal, like he isn't trying his damn hardest to not bolt or evaporate into thin fucking air, and that annoys him. Daryl hums in reply- sounding more like squeaks then anything else really. Beth laughs. Daryl kind of hates her then. She was always happy. Laughing. Even seeing him after what happened can't put a damper on her Little Miss Sunshine fucking life, can it? And what's this howdy bullshit? She hasn't stepped foot onto a farm since most her family burnt to barbecue in that fire- (below the belt below the belt, he tries to remind himself, and how could he talk? At least what happened to them was a pure accident, his own ma burned the whole house down cos she fell asleep smoking a damn cigarette-) 

If he was going to say something meaningful, like an apology or, anything really, there was a moment. He let it pass. There was a beat of silence. 

"Well my five is over- I'll talk to y'all later. Daryl." She pushes a pair of expensive looking Raybans on, sufficiently shifting the whole atmosphere around her. It makes Beth look hard. The moment feels jaded, unlike the nervous goodbye she lightheartedly spoke. Daryl holds back his comment on how calculating she looks, so she leaves without further ado. Came with the wind and gone with it too. It isn't another fifteen minutes until the band begins playing. (He tries not to notice her white lie, maybe she wasn't all peaches and cream with him neither. It's almost relieving. Almost.) 

 

"This one's for all you party-ers. Rock on, huh?"

 

So you're on the prowl wondering  
whether she left already or not  
Leather jacket popped like antenna,  
never knowing when to stop  
Sunglasses indoors par for the course,  
lights in the floors  
and sweat on the walls  
Cages and poles

Daryl is taken. He can't help watch her. It's terrible and wonderful all at once. The girl he knew- up there, doing what she loved. But there's also this strange ticks, the arrogant confidence-  _enjoy the show_ and, that's what it is, isn't it? Beth isn't just singing she is  _living_ the very lyrics. It's a torture he can't sit through for long.

Call off the search for your soul  
or put it on hold again  
She's having a sly indoor smoke,  
She calls the folks who run this joint  
her oldest friends,  
Sipping her drink and laughing at   
imaginary jokes

As all the signals are sent  
Her eyes invite you to approach   
And it seems as though those   
lumps in your throat  
That you just swallowed have got  
you going 

(He's sent back to the hospital . He smokes away his problems- no, he smokes the very thing killing his brother, and some stupid fucking girl is just there. Scribbling chicken scratch into a journal, like she hasn't got a care in the world.) Daryl feels a keen sense of betrayal- how could she sing about that? Like it was a fucking joke? He clenches his fist, ignoring the bite of nail into his palm.

Come on, come on  
Come on, come on  
Come on, come on  
Number one party anthem

She's certified mind blower  
knowing full well I don't   
I may suggest there's somewhere  
from which I might know her

.

"I see you around  a lot- who're you here for?" 

. 

Just to get the ball to roll  
Drunken monologues, confused because  
It's not like I'm falling in love 

.

Her sister stepped out of the room bawling. Heaving, hard. The girl, Beth followed with heavy steps, tears silent. Somehow they seemed worst to Daryl.   
"I'll call Glenn Maggie. Please don't-" she choked up. Rather stop talking then let the whole world know she was falling apart.   
(While she waited outside the restroom for her sister, Daryl shoved a bottle of Jack Daniels toward her. "Ain't my first choice drink but it's good enough." It's not the last drink they share, over a dead family member. Or in the grand scheme of things.) 

.

 

I just want you to do me no good  
And you look like you could

Come on, come on  
Come on, come on  
Come on, come on  
Number one party anthem  
Come on come on  
Before the moments gone  
Number one party anthem

The look of love  
The rush of blood  
The "she's with me"   
The Gallic shrug  
The shutterbugs  
The camera plus  
The black and white color dodge  
The good time girls  
The cubicles  
The house of fun

The number one party anthem

Daryl's lungs ache. He needs to get the hell out of here. He doesn't wait for her to finish her shitty hurtful song, he can't. Daryl bursts out of the bar on a dead sprint. Doesn't even look back, doesn't think of anything besides getting away from the siren on stage- not until he's in the next town over payin for a motel room. Daryl wants to think he ain't ever going back. After tonight he's driving down down down until he hits some kind of border- but even as he's envisioning it, Daryl know that's not what's going to happen. Not when she's there and he knows she is. Not when she's dredging up these god awful memories, tearing out the stitches holding him together- no. Beth Greene does not get to do that to him. Not then not now not ever. 


	2. One for the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my first commentor! You rock! Lol.

 

"You have some damn nerve Dixon."

Daryl turns without hesitation. He finds it ironic how without even noticin he was able to retain so much knowledge of a person- and keep it, after years and years. He isn't surprised, he remembers lots of things, but, well, he'd be a liar if he said Maggie didn't mean something to him. How could she not- but still; the fact he  _remembered._ The elder sister's southern shone the brightest in the height of anger (he used to get a kick out of it, Beth's drawl was strewn casually through out her speech but like Maggie it amplified in what Glenn dubbed 'Greene temper'-) 

"Don't give me that look the hell you doin here?" 

She kicks the chair nearest to her before plopping down. She's making eye contact that Daryl knows he can't break. Not yet. He also figures if he tries to complain of her unwanted company she'll have his balls on a platter ready to serve him, public space or not. Daryl leans forward in his own chair. He squints at her in a way she'd recognize as attentiveness. 

Maggie makes a distinct noise of disgust. Daryl's reminded- no, he's been aware, of just how pissed she must be. Called him Dixon, sounded like a pissed off southern Belle, and now the aggressive interrogation she was obviously going for.

"Greene," he nods at her.

"Rhee."

She corrects him through clenched teeth. He wonders how she does it without completely slaughtering Glenn's- their joint last name. _Lots of practice,_ with how much of a hot head Maggie could be. 

" 'M sorry." 

It's exactly the wrong thing to say. Her nostrils flare before she snaps,"You should be." 

 

 

_You should be._

 

Because that's where they stand, as of now. The back of his neck seems to erupt in hives. Daryl has the urge to itch it, til the blood pools into his nail beds. He's once again acutely aware of the amount of people milling around in the yard, a mind boggling buzz. He knows a fair amount of them, besides the youth, and at the moment it feels like a soon to be valiant form of public humiliation. Planned solely for him. Wouldn't that be just his luck? Bring back public stoning. Hell, throw in some flogging just to get the people who dressed in black rocks off. Forced atonement. Maggie is glaring at him. The set of her jaw stiff. Truth be told what he really is surprised is how well she is holding back. After what he did- Maggie, this in his mind when he ever phantom-ed coming back was a lot more violent. Somehow this is worse. Both are keenly aware of what she  _means._ And she isn't talking about fucking up her last name. 

Daryl swallows hard. 

Like an after thought, Glenn had only just bent the knee for her last time he had been here. 

It's a deadly reminder of all his shortcomings. What happened between him and Beth- what didn't. Like a fishin hook screwed in tight in just the right spot it can't be torn out without taking a few layers of meat with it. That's Beth. 

Daryl clears his throat. As if he'd speak. Laughable. After everything he's been up against and he can't think of a damn thing to say to Beth's sister- to _Maggie_. Because there is no explanation. Not one he could dredge up, one he can repeat. One she'd understand. Before: God they all became close, closer then he ever thought they could be; but if he ain't ever even told Rick- how could he tell Maggie? Glenn? And fuck. What made them think they deserved squat from him? He doesn't owe them shit (made sure of it.) But there's a niggling in the back of his Jimny fuckin Cricket and that part of him is screaming. Screaming because they sure as hell deserved more then what he gave them. _She's all I have left,_ that's what Beth had said hadn't she? The look on her face had twisted his right ribs without remorse- the matter of fact way she said it, and yeah, she wasn't exaggerating. 

Was suppose to be family. 

Or a reimagining of one, because the closest he ever got to it was Merle and- and look how that turnt out.

"Good to see you."

He manages it, barely. Who cares if it was a lie? She wouldn't believe it anyway. Maggie rolls her eyes. Cut the shit she seems to say. 

"Why are you here?"

And he doesn't have a legitimate answer. Because there is none. After last night he should have kept right on driving. Through the night, through hell and beyond. Except he didn't. Daryl shrugs. There's a beat of silence; evaluation, he realizes the moment Maggie scoots up and away. Her chair squeals harshly against the wooden floor. He almost wants to shy away from her intense stare. 

"You don't get to come back waltzin in here. Dumb as rocks. She's going on that tour." _Don't you ruin it for her. (_ That's all Dixons are good for, though. Isn't it?) The accusations stings, welts real bad like Will Dixon's belt had. He would never ask that of Beth- they even spoke last night. Why the hell did people keep assuming he had that power over her? Like after all this time he still mattered to her? Crock of shit. 

 

A fresh wave of cheers roared throughout the bar. They were here- Beth, in particular. Daryl tried to resist the urge to look up at the stage. Past all the yuppie bastards and everyone he knew. Maggie's words pressing on him heavy and true. Being here wasn't good for Beth. _Not like she noticed me. Hardly gave a shit last night._ Won't care now. 

His eyes latches onto her band mates. They don't look shady at least. And because Beth wasn't the tallest person, all he could make out of the crowd was a sliver of her head. A blond halo with hints of her darker roots. (Daryl had always meant to ask her why she didn't let the darker blond grow in.) The crowd roared in their approval of the band. Daryl frowned, sitting back in his seat. 

 

"Great to be back! We're the Artic Monkeys and because I can't quit ya'll- we're here until our tour!"

Beth hyped the crowd. She laughed, it was husky. Languid.

"Listen- we'll play some originals n do a few covers. What do you wanna hear first?" The mike caught a bit of feedback as, what Daryl figured, she thrust the microphone into someone's face. The person of choice sounded ecstatic to be the choice. 

"Fluorescent Adolescent- my favorite!"

Then, Beth slid into view. Like the crowd had adjusted itself to cater to him. To her. She was dressed in a loose fitting suit made of a handsome purple. The shade complimented her skin tone in a way that made Daryl uncomfortable with the prospect. Underneath the suit was some sorta shirt. He couldn't make it out from his seat. She responded to the fan in kind, while Daryl had been scanning her. There was the clacking of drumsticks, ringing through the bar. And then the other instruments joined in. It sounded upbeat, if not a bit wonky. 

 

 

You used to get it in your fishnets              
Now you only get it in your night dress      
Discarded all your naughty nights for niceness                                         
Landed in a very common crisis            
Everything's in order in a black hole    
Nothing seems as pretty as the past though                                                
That Bloody Mary is lacking in Tabasco    
Remember when you used to be a rascal? 

Beth pumped her fist into the air, and continued. 

Oh that boys a slag                                
The best you ever had                          
The best you ever had                              
Is just a memory and those dreams        
But as daft as they seem                          
As daft as they seemed                          
My love when you dream them up

Flicking through a little book of sex tips

She maneuvered her guitar while strumming in a way the implied she was in fact flipping through a fuck book.

 

Remember when all the boys were electric?  
Now when she tells she's gonna get it      
I'm guessing she'd rather forget it            
Clinging to not getting sentimental          
Said she wasn't going but went still          
Like her gentleman not to be gentle        
Was it a Mecca Dauber or a betting pencil?

She drew out the last line, holding that note eyes scanning the bar. She made a brief up jerking off motion. The crowd _screamed_ it's approval and she fell right back in. 

Oh that boys a slag                              
The best you ever had                          
The best you ever had                            
Is just a memory and those dreams      
But as daft as they seem                      
As daft as they seemed                        
My love when you dream them up

Daryl's ears strained to hear every lyric. The song sounded too goofy to be taken seriously but he also knew from past experiences, Beth didn't just sing. She wrote with every thing inside her in mind. All this- if she was singing it, she had to have had a hand on writing it- _I ain't no sellout Mr. Dixon_ , so. So what had she been thinking while writing this? Was she talking about herself? About another woman? 

Oh, Flo, where did you go?               
Where did you go?                          
Where did you go?

You falling about                                
Took a left off Last Laugh Lane              
Just sounding it out                              
But you're not coming back again          
You're falling about                              
You falling about                                
Took a left off Last Laugh Lane              
Just sounding it out                              
But you're not coming back again

Her band mates joined in, joining her pitch. Their combined lilt was like a plush vice, despite his lack of interest in music in general. Daryl felt like a bag of cats. She continued solo once again.

You used to get it in your fishnets        
Now you only get it in your night dress      
(Falling about)

Someone- all of them? A few? Sang backup as she flew through her plight. She sung over them as they harmonized, drawing out their lyrics soft, and she didn't pay no mind. 

Discarded all your naughty nights for niceness                                                
Landed in a very common crisis          
(Took a left off Last Laugh Lane)            
Everything's in order in a black hole        
Nothing seems as pretty as the past though                                                

(You were just sounding it out) 

That Bloody Mary is lacking in Tabasco  
Remember when you used to be a rascal?  
(You're not coming back again)

 

Her last vocal, hung their as she strummed her guitar, arm flinging up in show and then it was done. Ended. Daryl couldn't help but feel a bit awe struck. Her old band had never had a lick of chemistry that this one had. On the other hand it also rubbed him entirely wrong way. Daryl, chugged his beer, as there was a few ear numbing cheers from the crowd. He could hear Beth cooing to them, welcoming their favor. Same girl, she's still Beth, he told himself. But was she? She had been briefly when she said goodbye. Before she put her shades on. That's how he had remembered her. And so what if she was different? What did it have to do with him? Not a damn thing. Except... except, (he closed his eyes as a new song slid around him, muffling his own thoughts like tar and feathers.)  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again this is all the Arctic Monkey's songs. Basically Beth is replacing Alex (the lead singer) oops. So yes, Beth has a bit of her accent but she's also channeling her band mates Europe-y style, which is why she sings different and there are a lot of Europe like references. "Telly meter" (in the last chapter) "slag" etc. In this AU she wrote the songs but because she's in actual good band everyone pitches in with song making. So , hopes that clears up errything lol. How'd you like the Daryl/Maggie dynamic? I left a lot to the imagination because Daryl is trying hos BEst not to think about the past... ofc, we will explore all of that soon. Anyway comment, critique, and kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> So obviously Beth nor Emily Kinney wrote those songs- which, are by the Artic Monkey's btw. I have no ownership towards those songs etc. etc. but uh, imagine Beth as a mixture of herself and Alex. She has his vibe and sound but obviously she's a girl so ig some things might sound different lol. The beats are all the same, it's not soft. 
> 
> These songs might not sound like the stuff Beth or EK would sing but that's kinda the point. oh and in one of the flashbacks i am aware that some of Daryl and Beth's dialogue is switched up. I did this on purpose lol.


End file.
